Silver Shadows (Bloodlines #5)(74)
Author: Richelle Mead

Destroy them! Aunt Tatiana said. We’ll find them and rip them limb from limb!

“You’re not there anymore,” I told Sydney, squeezing her tightly. “You’re with me, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you ever again.”

She clung to me and stammered out, “I don’t want to sleep with the lights out.”

“You don’t ever have to sleep in the dark again,” I swore to her.

I stayed in bed with her this time, lights on as promised. It took her a little longer than it had before to calm down and fall asleep, but when she did, I could tell it was a deep and much-needed sleep. My own sleep wasn’t quite as solid, both because of the lights and because I kept waking to check on her. It was worth my own discomfort, though, to know she was safe and secure.

She woke up bright and refreshed, giving no sign that last night’s breakdown had ever happened. Best of all, she had an appetite. “I don’t know what to order,” she said, scanning the room service menu with Hopper on her lap. “Obviously, I’m going to get coffee—you have no idea how badly I want that—but I’m torn between the farmer’s omelet and the blueberry pancakes.”

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Get both.”

“How’s our money?” she asked wryly.

“About to get better. I’ll head downstairs to the casino today. You want to come and be my good luck charm?”

She shook her head. “I’d rather stay here and eat. Don’t you want something?”

“They’ll give me coffee down there. That’s all I need for now.”

That, and I could’ve used some blood, which was another issue we hadn’t taken into consideration when we’d started this plan. Like so many things, though, that was for later. I wasn’t in dire straits yet, but it would have to be dealt with.

After last night, I thought Sydney might have an issue with me leaving, but she was fearless with sunlight and Jackie’s bag of tricks around. She showered with me—which was both a delight and a torment—and sent me off when her giant breakfast showed up. “Don’t give it all to Hopper,” I warned. She grinned and waved goodbye.

Down in the casino, things were quieter than they would’ve been at night but still pretty active. That was the beauty of Nevada. No matter the time of day, people always wanted to try their luck. I found a table with four other players with easy-to-read auras and settled down to business. Even though I had a considerable edge, I couldn’t flaunt it, lest I attract the attention of those running the casino. So, while I won the majority of the time, I made sure to lose every so often too, to allay suspicion. I also offered to buy a round of morning Bloody Marys, which went a long way to further goodwill and worsen the others’ game play.

I was nowhere near retirement, but after a couple hours, I’d built up a decent enough amount to take back to Sydney. I planned on doing a couple more hands first, and as I did a quick aura check when the bet came around, something caught my attention. It had actually caught my attention earlier, but I hadn’t given it much thought. When I used spirit to look at my competitors’ auras, I inadvertently caught sight of everyone else’s around me. What was odd today was that there were a lot of people with yellow in their auras. Yellow—and occasionally orange, which I was also seeing a lot of—was a thinking person’s aura, an academic’s aura. Sydney’s aura had a lot of yellow. It wasn’t something you generally saw a lot of chronic gamblers with, certainly not this time of day. Those who only gambled for occasional fun and novelty came out at night, not early mornings. This was the hardcore lot, the desperate lot . . . and their auras should’ve reflected as much.

I pondered this as I made my bet and played out the hand. I ended up splitting the pot with the guy next to me, much to his delight. As the next hand was dealt, I checked the auras around me again and was once more struck by the overabundance of yellow. I also noticed something else. No one with a yellow aura was directly looking at me, but they were arranged around me pretty symmetrically in the room. Just me. When I looked past them, the colors of other patrons shifted back to what I would have expected in a casino.

Yellow. A thinking person’s color.

An Alchemist’s color.

When the next hand started, I waved myself out and took out my cell phone, wishing I’d thought to pick up a prepaid one for Sydney. That would have to be our next priority for sure. Trying not to look panicked, I typed out a text to Marcus.

Call the Silver Springs Hotel in West Side, NV, and ask for room 301. Tell Sydney to pack right now and meet me at the car.

I was about to hit “send” when an explosion from somewhere outside rocked the casino. People gasped, and glasses rattled.

“Never mind,” I muttered, deleting the message and heading for the door.

CHAPTER 19

SYDNEY

I ATE AND ATE, AND it was wonderful. I hadn’t thought I’d be able to so soon, but after a real night of good rest, my body seemed ready to start accepting what it needed. Hopper shared my giant breakfast, of course, and I was pleased to see he too looked a lot better.

I put on another of Adrian’s brightly colored shirt choices (teal this time) and debated going down to the casino to cheer him on. I knew he’d like seeing me out and about, but each time I thought about facing the crowd downstairs, something tensed within me. I longed to reenter the normal world, but I just wasn’t quite ready for some things. It was overwhelming enough to turn on the news and hear references to big events that had happened while I was in re-education. Journalists spoke about them like they were common knowledge to everyone—which they probably were, if you hadn’t just had four months of your life taken away.

I made catching up on the modern world my new goal, and after packing everything up, I settled on the couch with Hopper while I also pondered our next step. After this, we’d have to keep moving, and as much as I hated to admit it, our next task would have to be trading the Mustang for something less conspicuous. From there, we had to make the same choice that Moroi always made in strategizing how best to stay away from Strigoi: Go somewhere heavily populated or totally deserted? Each had its own pros and cons.

A knock at the door made me jump. Immediately, my eyes darted to the knob, verifying that the “Do Not Disturb” sign was gone. We’d hung it outside last night. I stayed frozen and waited to see if the knocker would recognize their error and go away. A few moments later, another knock came, this time with, “Housekeeping.” That sealed it. Room service would knock, despite the sign, if you’d placed an order, but hotel housekeeping almost never did. Nervously, I crept up to the chained door and dared a peek out the eyeglass. A young woman stood out there, smiling pleasantly and wearing a hotel uniform. She certainly looked innocuous, and I wondered if perhaps our sign had fallen down.